Solo Forever
by vipervet18
Summary: War can show who a person is on the inside. Soon one pilots conflict between who is right and who is wrong becomes a War between who is good and who is evil. To stop the world from ending he will need all the help he can get, but trust can be hard to find
1. Prologue

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HEY. Yeah that's right guys I'm not dead yet. lol

**This is the long awaited Story 'Solo Forever'. Its yet another Ace Combat Tale that takes place in our universe (no Flames plz). Its just a PROLOGUE so the main characters haven't been introduced fully yet. ****Yes this is another US vs Russia story. I have no bad intentions towards anything Russian (people, planes, ideas, etc.) they just make a good villain in my stories. :) This is kinda our universe just the cold war never ended so bear with me.**

**Any ideas or OCs you want to add just let me know. I will most likely add it to my story (and give you rights to the OCs)**

**AND REMEMBER! R&R! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!**

**Solo Forever **

**Prologue: A Hero Lost, A Hero Born**

1990 Invasion of Seattle

"Echo two nine! Change vector to one niner and head northeast!  
Friendly evac choppers are taking fire!"

"Copy that command."

Lt. Col. Dylan 'Rooster' Mitchell banked his powerful F/A-18 Super  
hornet into a 7 G turn, his wingmen close behind him. Small puffs of  
water vapor were forming over his wings as he leveled out the Super  
Hornet and began to descend lower into the clouds.

"Hey Rooster, You think Sarah made it out ok? You know with the baby  
and all...?"

Mitchell looked over his right shoulder at his wingmen Major Greg 'Dog  
Meat' Thomason. "I think she'll be fine. Let's focus on the  
mission.... This is Echo two nine. In position and awaiting orders."

"Echo two nine this is command! Squawk to three five and provide air  
support!"

"Roger that command." Mitchell changed channels and listened. The  
hiss of static was all that could be heard for the moment. But then a  
jumbled voice came to life over the com.

"...this...-we need.... Fire....! I... -peat! We are taking fire...!"

The soldier's voice on the com became clearer as they neared Seattle.  
"...where!...we ne-... Support! Is anyone fucking there! We need air  
support now gods damn it! We're talking heavy fire!"

"This is echo two nine. We are in route to your position. ETA  
momentarily..."

"About time! It's a shit storm down here! Targets will be marked on  
your way in!"

"Roger that. Were inbound." the two Super Hornets both rolled right  
and dived for the earth. At about 2,000 feet they began to level out  
in the direction of the city. The clouds around them were thick and  
hard to see through making visibility very poor for the two pilots.  
But soon the heavy clouds started to lighten and the city of Seattle  
came into view.

Mitchell gasped at the sight in front of him sending a chill down his  
spine. The city of Seattle was in ruins. Thick clouds off smoke rising  
from the ground filled the air. Anti aircraft guns were filling the  
sky with lead trying to shoot down the planes in the sky. Tiny  
explosions were going off everywhere. It was a warzone...

"Jesus Christ... Look at that..." Mitchell's wingmen said over the  
radio. The two F/A-18s slowly descended through the black clouds towards  
their target.

"Targets are painted! Take them out!"

Mitchell looked on his HUD to see five squares pop up. "Weapons hot  
Dog Meat." He flipped his master arms switch on and lined the F/A-18  
on the target. Four laser guided bombs were armed and ready, waiting  
to 'beam ride' their way down to the target.

Mitchell heard Thomason confirm the order over the radio. "Weapons hot  
and ready to rock Rooster."

The city was close now. Destroyed buildings could be see in more  
detail from their cockpits. As the two Super Hornets streaked over  
downtown Seattle Mitchell released all four of his smart bombs.  
"Weapons released!" he called out over the com as he banked hard to  
the left. Under the strain of 7 Gs Mitchell looked over his shoulder  
to see his wingmen Dog Meat close behind him.

"Targets destroyed! Great job Echo two nine! Evac choppers are loading  
the civilians now! Keep the Skies clear!"

"Copy that." Mitchell replied as he leveled out his Super Hornet.

* * *

"Ok Mrs. Mitchell. Control your breathing. Big deep breaths..."

Sarah Mitchell was in extreme pain. She had no idea child birth would  
be so difficult. She continued to take deep breaths squeezing the  
nurse's hand standing next to her. The lights in her hospital bed room  
were dimming every five seconds as the sound of explosions boomed in  
the distance. She was being closely monitored by a heart rate monitor  
that sounded off every few seconds.

Suddenly a series of loud explosion shook the whole room. Medical  
supplies on the shelf fell to the floor in a mess as the echo gunfire  
was heard outside the door. The nurse looked at the door then back at  
Mrs. Mitchell. "Wait here..." The male nurse walked over to door and  
slowly opened it.

In an instant the nurse was pushed back by a solider holding an M-16  
in one hand. He looked over at Mrs. Mitchell then back at the nurse.  
"Get her ready to move now! The last group of choppers are about to  
leave!" the soldier then ran back out to the hall leaving the Nurse  
and Mrs. Mitchell alone in the room. The nurse walked over to her bed  
and started unlatching the heart rate monitor from her arm. The nurse  
released the breaks on the beds wheels and they were out the door in  
seconds.

When they got out in the hall some of the hospitals occupants were  
leaving as well. Some in beds just like hers, others being helped by  
doctors and soldiers. As Mrs. Mitchell was quickly wheeled down the  
hall sounds of muffled explosions and gunfire could be heard from  
outside. Nearing the elevator at the end of the hall a soldier was  
helping people on with his rifle slung behind his back.

"Lose the beds people! We don't have room!" the soldier said.

Anyone that could still walk began helping people get off the rolling  
beds and into the elevator. But before Mrs. Mitchell could get to the  
door the elevator was full. The soldier stepped out as the huge steel  
doors closed.

"No! Wait! She has to get to that chopper!" Sarah's nurse said trying  
to stop the doors from closing.

"It's too late! We'll have to wait! Just get back!" the soldier said  
stopping him in his tracks. "They'll send the elevator back down! Now  
just wait-..."

The soldier was cut off as a large explosion shook the whole  
building killing all the lights in the hall. When the hall was  
completely dark a new sound started to form. The sound of terrified  
screams rushed by them... coming from the elevator doors. The screams  
slowly faded away but were cut off short when yet another rumble shook  
the building. Seconds later the emergency lights kicked in...

Both the soldier and the nurse were paralyzed in shock. "...h-holy.  
Shit... No..." the soldier said under his breath. After a moment of  
silence he quickly looked over the Sarah then up to the nurse. "can  
she walk!?" he said with a frantic expression.

The nurse still frozen in fear after what he just witnesses could only  
stutter. "uh. She... She's pregnant... Yes. She can."

The soldier without hesitation began to help Sarah out of the bed.  
"Come on! We need to get her up those stairs! Give me a hand!" The  
nurse, still a little dazed, didn't reply at first but shook the  
feeling from his head. He ran over to the soldier and helped support  
Sarah by putting her arm over his shoulder. They both began to help  
Mrs. Mitchell walk to the stairs and up more than 15 flights.

After a long climb up the many stairs they finally reached the door to  
the roof. Gunfire and more explosions could be heard just outside the  
door along with the low beat of a helicopter. The soldier  
reached for the door handle and pulled but to his luck it was locked.  
"Damn it! Hold on..." he removed Sarah's arm from his shoulder and took  
a step back. The nurse and Sarah got out of the way as the soldier  
kicked the door with a loud bang!

An explosion of sound and wind filled inside the stairway. Sarah  
looked out side to see a mass of destruction and chaos. The soldier  
took one step outside and then turned back to Sarah and the nurse.  
"Come on!" he yelled waving them towards the outside.

Sarah's breathing increased rapidly as the loud noise overwhelmed her.  
She looked to her left and her right to see more soldiers taking shots  
over the sides of the roof. A long cement pathway ran from the  
stairway to the helicopter platform. On top of the platform sat a  
UH-60 Blackhawk transport helicopter ready to take off.

The soldier that had been helping Sarah pulled a radio out from his  
front chest pocket. "Charlie zero five this sergeant Simmons! Hold  
that evac sir! We got one more civilian coming up!" he yelled into the  
radio.

Sarah heard the pilot reply back but soon a new sound started to drown  
out the radio. The beating of yet another helicopters blade, but this  
time it wasn't friendly...

"Enemy Chopper!" one of the soldiers nearby shouted. Sergeant Simmons  
looked up in horror as a Russian attack chopper rose up from the  
streets below. The troops on top of the roof quickly ran for cover as  
the Russian helicopter began cutting them down with its machinegun  
turret. Sarah watched as they were blown to pieces right in front of her  
eyes, limbs flying off of their bodies. After the enemy helicopter  
made its pass only a few of the men on the roof were still alive.  
Some of them screaming in agony, with body parts missing, praying that  
god would put them out of their misery. This sight only worsened  
Sarah's pain as she could feel the baby coming.

Simmons quickly ran over to the nurse and Mrs. Mitchell as the  
helicopter came around for another pass. He grabbed both of them and  
dived for cover as bullets streamed over his head. Once under the  
cover of a large cooling fan Simmons pulled out his radio again. "echo  
two nine where the hell are you?!? Take out that fucking helicopter!!"

Just a second after saying this, the helicopter was struck by a missile.  
The Russian chopper began to fire madly in a circle as it spun out of  
control sending bullets in every direction. The sound of jet engines  
screamed overhead as two f/A-18s flew over the top of the hospital.

The surviving soldier's cheered as the chopper slammed into a building  
next to the hospital and fell to the earth. The radio sounded to life  
as the pilots voice spook. "This is echo two nine. Were doing the best  
we can. What's the sit-rep on those evac choppers?"

"Two nine we are just about done! Thanks for saving our asses back  
there!"

Simmons smiled to himself knowing those flyboys were going to help  
them get out of here. But that smile soon faded as he looked over to  
Sarah. The woman was clutching her shoulder in pain as blood began  
flowing through her fingers. The nurse looked up at Sergeant Simmons.  
"Sergeant she's been shot!"

Sergeant Simmons quickly pulled battle dressing from his leg pocket and  
began helping the nurse apply it to her shoulder. "Shit... Is the baby  
ok?" the nurse gave him a worried look. "I-... I hope not. I don't see  
any wounds other than her shoulder..."

Sarah could feel herself slowly fading from reality. She was just  
about to pass out when a sharp pain hit her lower area. The baby was  
coming... Sarah let out a low moan as the pain overwhelmed her.

"Mrs. Mitchell... How are you holding up?" the Sergeant asked finishing  
up with the battle dressing.

Sarah let out another moan as she said "...the baby! .... The baby!  
It's coming! ...ohhhh!!"

The Sergeant looked up to the nurse. "we got to get her on the chopper!  
No way is she having the baby here!" The nurse nodded in agreement.  
"Right..."

Both the Sergeant and the nurse carried the crying woman up the ramp to  
the helicopter pad. When they reached the helicopter two door gunners  
help the three on bored. Sergeant Simmons grabbed his radio and yelled  
into the receiver. "Echo two nine last helicopters are taking off now! We  
need exit cover into the mountains! Copy?"

Lt. Col. Dylan Mitchell heard the request but was distracted by his  
on bored computer. "Warning! Bingo! Bingo!" it wailed into his headset.  
The words 'low fuel' flashed in green letters on his HUD. "Shit..."  
Rooster muttered under his breath.

"Dog meat what's your fuel status?"

"Not good sir. Only got a couple hundred pounds left... We should  
consider heading back to the ship... Or see if we could suck some gas  
from a tanker. But whatever we do I better be quick..."

Mitchell looked back to his HUD at the green flashing letters. They  
needed gas, and there was no use in risking two perfectly good fighter  
planes... As much as he hated to say it... The helicopters were going  
to have to make it on their own.

"That's a negative Sergeant. We are bingo in fuel. I'll try and see if  
air boss has any other flights on station but that's all I can do...  
I'm sorry."

A long silence filled the com as Mitchell waited for a reply. Suddenly  
he heard static as the sergeant pressed down the transmit button. The  
Sergeant was at a loss of words. Mitchell could hear voices in the  
background... "...come on Mrs. Mitchell... Breathe... Good..."

A light flicked on in Mitchells head. 'Did he just say Mrs.  
Mitchell? ...God no... Please don't let it be...'

"listens Lt...." the Sergeant started to say with great sorrow in his  
voice. "I have civilian's on bored... One is about to give birth to a  
baby for Christ's sake!... There has to be something you can do!"

'No... It was Sarah...'

Mitchell remained silent... The thought sent a chill down his spine.  
He was faced with a very hard decision. One he wasn't sure he could  
make. The helicopter had a very slim chance at making it out of  
Seattle without air cover. If he fallowed orders it could mean the  
death of his wife and soon to be child. But if he stayed... He would  
be risking his life as well as his wingman's life and two United States  
Navy fighter planes...

"please... I beg you sir... We can't make it out alive without you!"  
the soldier pleaded once more.

"Rooster what are we doing...?" dog meat asked.

Mitchell was in a brain lock. His mind tried to figure out some way to  
save both himself and his wife and child. But no matter how many times  
he went over it only one possibility came through... His life... Or his  
families...

A woman's scream was heard in the background over the radio... Making  
Mitchell realize what he had to do...

"dog meat... I'm ordering you to break formation and egress from the  
battle. Head back to the ship, rearm and refuel... You copy?"

"No sir. I'm not leaving-"

"that's an order Greg!!"

Dog meat stayed quiet for a moment... Rarely did Mitchell call people  
by their first name, especially in combat. He meant what he said. Greg  
let out a small sigh before saying his final Farwell to his commanding  
officer.

"Yes sir. Dog meat is to RTB. Good luck sir..."

Mitchell watched as his wingman gave him one final salute before he  
detached formation. After saluting him back Mitchell watched dog meats  
F/A-18 bank away, slowly disappearing.

When the F/A-18 was no longer in sight Mitchell turned back to his  
HUD. The flashing green letters still blinking in front of him...

'have to do this...'

"echo two nine is on station... Awaiting orders..."

Sergeant Simmons could feel himself calming down as he heard Mitchells  
reply over the radio. But they weren't out of the fight yet. The  
Sergeant flipped to his squad channel and ordered all troops to fall  
back on the chopper. Once the surviving soldiers got on bored the  
Blackhawk lifted off the ground and slowly began its trip towards the  
hills.

* * *

Mitchell's heart beat slowly started to rise... The sound of air  
rushing by him slowly began to deafen.... The alerts buzzing in his headset telling him he was almost out of fuel had faded…

_I am alone..._

The lone F/A-18 flew above the skies of Seattle. The group of evac  
choppers were now forming up and slowly moving together into the  
hills. In one of the slow moving choppers Mrs. Mitchell was screaming  
in pain. The baby was slowly poking its head out... Suddenly three Russian  
helicopters emerged from the building of Seattle, chasing the group of  
evac choppers.

Mitchell pushed the throttle into full military power, accelerating his F/  
A-18 towards the enemy helicopters. Gaining a lock on the closest  
helicopter to the evac group he fired. Mitchell's last missile streaked  
across the sky slamming into the enemy helicopter, destroying it  
instantly in a fiery explosion. Flipping to guns he lined up his  
crosshairs on the last two helicopters. Mitchell squeezed the trigger  
sending hot lead streaming out of his gun barrel. Seconds after firing the two helicopters exploded into flames falling to the ground.

_I am unarmed..._

Mitchells ammo counter read zero. He had no more missiles left... He  
had no way to protect the evac group... Suddenly his radar picked up a  
new contact. A lone MiG-29 was making its way closer to the evac  
group. Mitchell watched in horror as it fired two missiles at the evac  
group taking out two helicopters... Helicopters filled with innocent  
people...

_I am unafraid..._

Mitchell turned the nose of his plane towards the MiG toughing the  
throttle into full after burn. The MiG saw him as a possible threat and  
tuned into him as well. They were both on a collision course with  
each other. The MiG fired a missile at Mitchells F/A-18 as they got  
closer and closer. Mitchell popped flairs and changed his vector  
quickly. His number two engine flamed out as he corrected his coarse  
back on the enemy MiG. The distance between the two air craft was  
decreasing rapidly. Suddenly Mitchell's number one engine was out as  
well. He was flying purely on hydraulics; the momentum carrying his  
fighter planes closer to the MiG. The MiG-29 started to pull up away  
from F/A-18 trying to avoid a midair collision, but Mitchell pulled up  
as well putting him back on a collision coarse... Mitchell filled his  
lungs and screamed... The last thing he saw was the Russian MiG as it slammed into the nose of his fighter…

Sarah let out one final cry as the baby exited her body. Her head fell  
back as drowsiness filled her body. Off in the distance she saw an  
explosion... An explosion that seemed to cause her heart to fill with  
pain...

_A hero lost._

She lay back on the floor of the helicopter bay, still clutching the  
nurse's hand. Her vision slowly began to fade as the cry of a baby  
filled her ears. Her head started to feel dizzy as she looked up at  
the nurse holding her baby. A single word escaped her mouth that caused  
the nurse to lean closer.

"James..."

At first the nurse was confused. He couldn't understand what she had  
just said, but then it hit him. He looked down at the wet baby in his  
hands. Sarah's hand fall limp as her eyes lay still. The nurse put his hand up to her neck to check her pulse. A sad expression fell over his face when no pulse was felt. "She's gone…" Sergeant Simmons looked over at the nurse with a sad yet questioning look. "what did  
she say?"

The nurse looked up at the solider and said "James... She wants the  
babies name to be James... James..." the nurse looked back down to the  
baby and smiled.

_A hero born..._

**A/N: More to come... Ideas and reviews please!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Solo forever**

**Chapter 1: Hero vs Legend**

Somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico

Screeching across the sky at speeds faster than sound, a lone fighter jet rolled over a nearby cloud bank in the sky. Leveling out of the roll, the wings of the F-15E traced the sky with its snow white vapor trails. The pilot quickly stretched his head behind him searching the gray sky for the bogie that was close behind him. Suddenly out from the cloud cover below two missiles emerged, their white trails of smoke fallowing close behind. _SHIT _the pilot thought to himself, at the same time reacting quickly with the jets countermeasures. The pilot turned the Eagle hard into the missiles trying to generate an over shoot. Flairs from the bottom of the air craft began to automatically deploy as the ECM jammed away at the incoming missiles. The pilot watched between the two tales of his Eagle with satisfaction as one of the missiles took the bait, exploding instantly. But the other missile held its vector towards the F-15E slowly closing in on him. Remaining in the tight turn pulling a little over 7 G's the jets ECM deployed chaff systematically in an attempt to disrupt the last missile. Finally the jets ECM jammed the missiles radar causing it to trigger a self-destruct in the warhead. The missile exploded behind him as he leveled out over the cloud cover below him.

_Typical Russian tactic_…

The Russians would fire a heat seeking missile first then a radar guided missile, the heat seeker would distract the pilot while the radar guided missile homed in on its target. A very elementary move but would sometimes be useful against an un-expecting enemy fighter. Something still didn't seem right about the Russians move. The missiles were fired too close together; this didn't give the radar missile the distraction it needed to home in on its target unnoticed. The young pilot thought for a millisecond trying to predict the enemy's next move. Suddenly he jinked right and dived for the earth, the slight flash of a metal object bounced off his left mirror. A hail of bullets rushed by where the Eagle once was; just half a second ago.

Out from above a Russian SU-47 fallowed the lone F-15E as it dived towards the earth. The Eagle pilot now knew that this Russian was no ordinary fighter pilot; he was a professional killer in the sky. As the Eagle dived for the earth, the pilot let off the throttle trying not to gain speed. Quickly he pulled up hard making his F-15E slow even more. The pilot in the SU-47 flew by the Eagle in an overshoot pulling up right in front of the F-15E giving him a clear view of the Russian jet. But something unique about this air craft stood out at him. The planes skin covering it was darker than any normal Russian SU-47 along with the blood red imprint of a bear-like claw covered the right section of the plane.

_Who is this guy? _

The two fighter jets began to climb, both pushing their engines to full afterburner. He had caught the Russian in an overshoot but something told him he wouldn't get so lucky again. Looking up at the SU-47 as it climbed upwards faster and faster the Eagle pilot tried to keep up. Flipping to his sidewinder heat seeking missiles on the flight stick, the low growl of the missile searching for a target filled his helmet. He waited for the growl to slowly gain intensity as seconds pasted by like minutes. The targeting crosshair on his HUD circled the SU-47 as it began to pick up on the huge heat signature of the SU-47's two engines. Finally the crosshair stopped on top of the SU-47s air frame, a high pitched ringing sounded off in his helmet.

This would be the end of such an unfortunate Russian pilot who was soon to have a heat seeking missile shoved up its tail pipe. The pilot was just about to send away his now hungry heat seeker when suddenly the nose of the Eagle began to fall downwards towards the ground. _What the hell? What's going on- NO! _On the right hand side of his HUD the F-15E's speedometer read 123 knots and was dropping fast. Suddenly the engines began to sputter as the soft metallic voice of a woman spoke to him over the headset in his helmet, "warning engine Stall, right. Warning engine Stall, left." He was staling; the Russian probably didn't care to over shoot the eagle knowing that the F-15 didn't have enough speed to pull out of a climb like that. The sickening feeling of freefall slowly entered his stomach as the nose began to fling rapidly in every direction. His head was tossed in every direction as he tried to regain control over the plane. Glancing over at his altitude meter he saw that his plane was at 20,000 feet and falling. The world outside his cockpit began to blur as the plane began to roll and twist as it fell. Grabbing both hands on the flight stick he tried desperately to level out but it was no use.

Slowly aching above the falling F-15E was the Russian SU-47 coming around for another pass. The Russian pilot let off the throttle as he peeked at the top of his arch slowing himself down for the kill. Diving down like a war bird striking its prey the SU-47 locked on to falling Eagle with a radar guided missile. The pilot stuck in the freefalling F-15E began to panic as the sound of his ECM warning going off the wall, alerting him of an enemy missile lock. His heart was pounding in his chest as his entire life flash before his eyes. Suddenly a surge of adrenalin hit him…

"too easy" said the Russian over the radio.

The young Eagle pilot quickly regained control over the plane, rather unexpectedly to the Russian pilot. He pointed the nose down allowing air to rush into the F-15E engine intakes. Hitting the fuel injector switch to both engines within seconds, he ignited both engines. An explosion of power thrusted him back into an upright position in his seat. He yanked back on the flight stick pulling a tremendous amount of G's. Despite the warning of an OVER G the pilot continued to pull back on the stick. In a single moment the Eagle had pulled out of the stall and was sent flying past the oncoming SU-47 as it did a complete flip ending right behind the Russian jet.

The Russian pilot could only look back in amazement at what had just happen. The sound of his ECM going off, alerting him that Eagle was locked on, could be heard but he didn't care. He could only look back in astonishment as a missile dropped down from under the F-15 and shot straight towards him. "No…" was all the Russian could utter as he watched the Americans missile explode just outside his cockpit….

Langley AFB, Virginia

Colonel David Shepherd gazed at the thick packet of papers lying on his desk. The clock in his office room wall was the only thing that kept his room from being dead silent. He sat there for moments, staring up at the sealing watching the fan circle above him. The slow rotation of his fan kept the room cool but it did little good for the stressed Colonel and his full service dress uniform. Shepherd took another glance down at the packet, rubbing his temples with his fingers. It was this month's situation report for the 1st fighter wing and he dare not look at it again. The 1st fighter wing was taking a beating and Major Shepherd was quickly losing his more experienced pilots. It seemed like every sortie the Wing had set out on they would return with losses no matter how great the tactical advantage was. The Russians had some good pilots on their side…. _Damn _good pilots at that and it showed.

Shepherd flipped through the pages one more time. Each page was just like the next, a paragraph simply written up by the squadron commander, describing the mission losses and victories. But Colonel Shepherd was only reading the pages with highlighted tabs attached to them. For each highlighted tab represented a pilot with a kill under his or her belt, whether it be one kill or five. Frowning at the number of tabs on the side of the packet he looked at each paragraph carefully. But he only saw the same thing again and again…

"…_took damage to left wing, couldn't bail out in time…"_

"…_lost contact in route home. Deemed KIA."_

"…_ambushed by Russian fighters… shot down…"_

"…_shot down by enemy ace… KIA"_

"…_KIA…"_

_KIA…_

Killed in action.

The same three letters imprinted in every paragraph. It was depressing none the less and these were just the results of over one month. He didn't want to see how many were lost over a year or even just six months. Sighing out loud Colonel Shepherd stopped on one page, it having four highlight tabs attached to the side. He began to read the first sentence, _"All pilots were shot down by the ace known as 'the Russian bear'… transports could not make it to target area. The mission was aborted and all surviving air craft fell back to safety. Only three pilots made it back…" _Colonel Shepherd couldn't read anymore.

'There were over fifteen pilots from the 1st fighter wing on that mission, and only three made it back…' he said to himself.

Colonel Shepherd put down the packet and began to rub his temples again. All this reading was making his eyes sore and it didn't help that everything he was reading was bad news. He had a slight head ach and need to take some head ach medicine. Reaching in his middle desk drawer he pulled out a bottle of Motrin. Popping the cap off, he pored a few tablets into his hand and grabbed a glass of water from his desk. Shepherd quickly stuffed the pills in his mouth and drank the glass of water. Suddenly his phone began to ring. Setting down the glass and wiping his mouth the Colonel picked up the phone.

"This is Colonel Shepherd."

"Colonel Shepherd you have a visitor. I just sent him up to your office." It was the Wings secretary on the phone.

"Corporal, I told you I wasn't taking any visitors at this time." He really wasn't in the mood to have any visitors right now.

"I know sir, but he said it was important." The airmen stated over the phone. Shepherd could feel the stress in his voice.

"It better be…" he mumbled to himself as he hung up the phone. Just then there was a knock on the door. Shepherd looked up to the door of his office and said with a low and intimidating voice "enter." Slowly the door opened and in stepped a man almost similar in age to himself. But as Shepherd began to study the man's uniform from the seat of his chair he noticed his ranks. Three silver stars hung on the man's shoulders. Quickly the Colonel jumped from his seat to attention and held a salute. "General! Good to see you, sir."

The General smirked at his reaction time as he walked to the front of his desk, a folder on one hand. With a quick salute back he dismissed the Colonel from attention. "Take a seat Colonel Shepherd; we have much to talk about…" The colonel did as he was told and took a seat at his desk waiting for the General to continue speaking, "my name is General Wilson J. Harrison. I'm with the JSF planning department at the pentagon." The General opened the folder in his hand and placed it on the Colonels desk in front of him. "Sir what is this…?" was all the Colonel could say.

"Look at it…"

Colonel Sheppard slid the open folder closer to him and stared at its contents. Inside the folder the Colonel could see photographs, all in black and white. Stapled on top of each photograph were what looked to be newspaper articles, but they were all in Russian. Colonel Sheppard didn't have to read Russian to realize that the newspaper articles were propaganda. In the photographs he could see what looked like a Russian SU-47 on an air base tarmac, its deep menacing look jumping out at its viewer. The SU-47 had a strange red outline of something imprinted on the fuselage of the aircraft, making it stand out more than any other SU-47 would. After looking at multiple photos and news paper articles he determined the red outlining to be in the shape of a bears claw… _Strange,_ Colonel Sheppard thought as he looked back up to the General in wonder.

The General then handed him another photo, this one being a photo of a man. Colonel Sheppard looked at him and saw that it was a pilot, standing next to the strangely marked aircraft. "His name is Anatoly Kvotchur… AKA 'the Russian bear'…"

Colonel Sheppard's eyes widened in shock.

This was the pilot responsible for so many deaths in this wing, the only pilot that anyone has yet to shoot down, and the only pilot that couldn't be stopped in the air.

"… Russian war hero. Propaganda magnet, the Russian press loves this guy. Good looking, quite the ladies man too. Over 234 reported kills in the air and over a dozen military instillations destroyed. Almost considered a god in the air by some people…"

The Colonel put the photo down in depression not wanting to look at the murderer of over two hundred American pilots.

General Harrison finished off his last statement with a smirk… "CIA, human Intel, just reported that he was shot down twelve hours ago over the Gulf of Mexico… "

Instantly the Colonels eyes shot up to the smiling Generals face. "What?"

"You heard me right."

"W-who? Who was it?" was all he could say.

"It's unknown who got the kill but we know where the pilot is based. This is why I'm here… I've come to talk to you about a secret division we are starting. Codenamed: PATRIOT WINGS. That pilot will be the first one to fly under this secretive operation and you're his new commanding officer. We're going to rid the skies of these Russian aces…"

The Colonel still couldn't comprehend in his head what his ears just heard.

"I've also taken the liberty of selecting a few other candidates as well, some from other coalition countries… no need to thank me… your plane will arrive tomorrow. I want you to meet the pilot who shot down that ace."

With that the General turned towards the door, exiting the Colonels office. Just as the door was half open, the Generals foot halfway through the door, he turned back to say something else.

"The fate of this war may depend on this program… A lot is a stake here. Don't fail me.""

The steady click of the door closing filled the silent room as Colonel Shepherd sat there in deep thought.

Tyndal Air Force Base

The piercing wine of two F-15 eagle engines filled the wide open area of the tarmac. A lone F-15 eagle taxied off the runway, slowing to a halt in hanger block 18. As the engines began to die three technicians rushed to secure the jet to its designated holding area, placing wooden blocks under the wheels. The crew chief then attached a ladder to the side of the F-15 as the glass canopy slowly opened. The Scottish looking crew chief climbed up to the top and began to help the pilot out of his harness.

"You're a lucky man Lieutenant… I thought for sure you would be a goner this time."

The red haired man's mustache moved in sync with his lips as he spoke to the pilot. "Looks like I owe ya another drink, eh lad?"

The pilot removed his oxygen mask from his face revealing a very troublesome expression. Beads of sweat dipped off his face, glistening in the afternoon sun. He rose from his seat and stepped down the ladder, helmet still on his head. When reaching the bottom of the ladder he stumbled to the ground and landed on his knees. The Scottish crew chief was about to help the exhausted fighter pilot up but was stopped in his tracks as the splatter of vomit hit the hot concrete deck. It took a few moments of distasteful noises before the pilot slowly began to get back up on his feet.

"Five sorties a day, a man needs to know his limits." The crew chief mumbled to him.

The pilot shrugged off the comment and removed the helmet from his head. His light brown hair was sprawled in every direction with sweat pouring down his face. He could only stare down with a depressed expression that almost looked as though he felt like a failure. Steadily he walked towards the barracks with a shuffle to his step, the crew chief close behind him.

"It will take us a few days for us to do an over G diagnostic on the plane, maybe get some R and R requested to command?"

The pilot continued his gray stare at the ground like he wasn't even listening. The crew chief quickly caught up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder turning him around.

"Hey! James, you won't be able to fly for a few days after that OVER G you pulled earlier! Take tomorrow off; have a little fun, Alright?"

The exhausted pilot looked up at him and nodded in agreement. "…Your right." he said, pausing. "I'll check with the wing commander as soon as I can… Thanks again McBride." Turning and walking towards the crew van, the pilot jumped inside; waiting for the driver to take him back to the squadron building.

"It's what I'm here for James, you take care now…"

James shut the door with nothing left to say. The vehicle drove off the tarmac and too the squadron building in the distance.

**R&R Please!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Solo Forever**

**Chapter 2: Low Flying**

Street lights illuminated the dark city road as cars moved smoothly through the town of Panama City. In the middle of all the traffic a single headlight weaved in between cars, gracefully, yet recklessly causing a few angry honks. The powerful engine of a motorcycle carried its passenger through the traffic, its rev getting higher and higher just before shifting into the next gear. Hunched over the seat of the motorcycle was its rider who was wearing a brown leather jacket with blue jeans, the black visor of his helmet shielding his identity from others.

As the motorcycle neared its destination the rider pressed the brakes slowly, his rpm decreasing steadily. Smoothly the bike pulled off the road and into a wet parking lot. The rider slowed to a halt in the front of a very run down building. Parking his bike in one of the nearby parking spots he looked up at the neon sign above him. Some of the letters were out, flashing on and off, but he could still make out what it read.

"Cloud Nine Gentlemen's Club"

The rider dismounted his bike and removed his helmet revealing his light brown hair. James looked back up at the sign in a distasteful manner. 'Where do they come up with these god damn names?' he thought. "They might as well just forget how good the name is; this place practically attracts the lowest of the low…" James mumbled to himself. He walked up to the door and opened it.

The deep thump of a bass shook his head when he entered the club. In the dark room strobe lights flashed everywhere making it hard for James to see where he was going. After slowly walking around for a moment James finally gave up on finding a table and looked for the bar. He nearly bumped into a provocatively dressed waitress on his way over to the side of the room where the bar was located. He couldn't help but notice as he took a seat at the bar how little of her body was covered in clothing. James sat there for a moment looking around at the other men in the dark room sitting at tables. Each had a few strippers dancing on the pole sticking out of the middle of each table. Both the strippers and the men sitting at the tables looked like they had seen better days, much better days.

'What the hell am I doing here… this doesn't feel like R&R at all.'

"what can I get you sir?"

James's thoughts were interrupted by the bartender who was standing on the other side of the bar. He looked up at the man not knowing what to order but quickly sputtered out an answer. "uh-… I'll just take water for now." The man behind the bar gave him a funny look. "Ice or no Ice?" he said grabbing a glass. James replied with the same tone of voice, "No ice." As the glass slowly filled the older looking bartender looked up with a grin on his face. "It's been a while sense someone ordered just a glass of water here my friend. Something must be wrong with ya." James chuckled at the man's joke, "No. I'm active duty, on standby right now. Can't really drink a whole lot tonight" The bartender raised an eyebrow at him. "You must be something to show up in this part of town. Not a lot of people are pro-war here, let alone pro-military…" James took no caution from the man's comment. "I'll take my chances…" The bartender set the glass of water down in front James. He looked James straight in the eye, "I'm neutral on the whole issue at hand but…"

James shot him a sharp glance, "What issue."

The bartender leaned in closer to James and spoke quietly to him, "Listen buddy, not a lot of people like what the war has brought upon us. People around here hate the military! I'm just warning you to save us both a bunch of trouble" he paused and pointed over at the entrance. James looked behind him at the entrance. A big man dressed in a suit had just walked in and was looking left and right, like he was searching for something. "See that guy? He's the one you really need to stay away from. If he were to find out that someone in the military was here he might flip his shit." James watched as the man eyed the bar and started to walk towards them. "Just make sure he doesn't find out you're military and you should be good" the bartender finished. James turned around just before the big man reached the bar and spoke to the bartender, "No promises, buddy."

"Hey Ben!"

The bartender leaned back from James and looked up at the bigger man. "Yes, Jerry, what can I do for ya?" James kept his head slightly lowered just like the numerous other drunks in the club to avoid attention. The big man stood right next to James and completely ignored him. "Yeah! Some military puke parked his damn bike in my parking spot!"

'Shit, he must have seen my squadron patch sticker on the bikes fuel tank' James thought to himself as he took a sip of water.

"I swear when I find that bitch… I'll bust his ass just like I did to his bike! You see him anywhere?"

The bartender looked at James then back to Jerry, "No I don't think I have Jerry, I'm sorry." James hopped the guy would take the excuse. Jerry scowled at the bartenders answer and looked around again, "Well... Keep an eye out for him!" A sigh of relief barely escaped James's mouth as he heard his response. James took another sip of his water and continued his blank stare at the bar. But just when it seemed like he would leave, Jerry looked down at James's drink and smirked. He reached for it and said, "I'll take some of that buddy" James saw him reach for the drink and quickly moved it out of his reach. Jerry lurched to a halt as his hand grasped nothing but air. With a pissed off look he lunged for the glass thinking he would be successful but James was still one step ahead of him. Quickly James stood up and 'accidentally' bumped the glass into him splashing water all over Jerry's suit.

"AHH! What the-! Hey! Who the f*ck do you think you are buddy!"

He looked up at the man showing no sign of fear. James was tall but this man was taller, almost by a full foot. He set the glass on the bar and spoke with a low voice, "I "ain't", your buddy."

Even Ben could tell that James was mocking the larger mans southern accent. Jerry grit his teeth and launched his fist at James's head but was too slow as he missed completely. James had ducked under the strike and countered with a shove to the man's torso, pushing him back a few feet. He looked back at James with shocked expression on his face. Ben shared the same expression as he still stood behind the bar.

"Listen buddy, as much as I'd love beating the shit out of some punk, I'm looking for some military bitch! So you get back to your drinkin before I change my mind and kick your ass!"

James still stood with a defensive stance ready for what was about to happen. "Sure 'buddy', as soon as you get me a new bike."

At first Jerry couldn't comprehend what he meant by it, "What are you talking about?" but suddenly his eyes shot open. "You!" he bellowed. A full second of silence filled the air before he closed the distance between them. James readied himself as Jerry through his whole body into a single punch. James side stepped at the last moment dodging the blow all together. Quickly he brought his knee up into Jerry's abdomen but the hit did little against the massive man. James stepped back, away from the man, and readied himself for the next attack. Jerry turned around to face James and scowled before he charged at James once again. But this time Jerry had no intention on striking him with his fists. James tried to dodge the attack again but was wrapped up in Jerry's arms. Jerry's momentum carried James backwards until they both collided with a large table. A stripper occupying the table at the time screamed and jumped off her pole. The two men landed on top of the table sending beer bottles and glasses everywhere. James threw his arms over his face as Jerry began to pound away on top of him. Ben watched from the bar as Jerry sent punch after punch crashing down on to James. Techno music was booming in the background giving the fight an even more intense feeling in the club.

'I got to get him off me!' James thought as he felt his arms get weaker and weaker.

Suddenly James's arms gave in and dropped from his face. Jerry connected a punch with James's cheek disorienting him for a moment. Rearing back for yet another strike, Jerry brought his fist down directly onto James mouth with a loud SMACK cutting his lip. When Jerry pulled back for another hit James felt a bottle brush up against his hand. Quickly had grabbed the neck of the bottle and slammed it against the side of Jerry's face. Jerry cried out in agony as the bottle busted open on the side of his head, creating a large cut. He stumbled back a few feet clutching his face, giving James time to recover. Slowly getting off the table, James spit blood out of his mouth onto the floor.

James walked towards Jerry with a deadly look on his face. He grabbed a chair from a nearby table and gripped it by the legs. When James was close he swung the chair and hit Jerry on the back breaking it into many pieces. Jerry fell onto a table, breaking it in half because of his sheer size. He crawled a few feet before getting back up on his feet still grabbing his face. James walked over to the broken table and yanked the stripper pole out of the ceiling. He looked over to see the blood on Jerry's face getting into his eyes, blurring his vision. Jerry called out to him with a mad voice trying to pinpoint James's location, "Where the hell are you, you little shit!"

James held the metal pole like a bat and faced Jerry with the same deathly look. "Over here" He said in a low voice.

Jerry turned to the direction of his voice. He let lose a cry as he charged towards James blindly.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

*CLUNK!*

The whole club had stopped. The music and dancers had completely stopped. Ben's jaw hung in the air as he looked at James with a shocked expression. James dropped the bent metal pole from his hand letting it hit the floor with a clatter. Ben was looking back and forth between James's face and the body that lay on the floor. Jerry lay knocked out on his back with a huge red bump on his head.

James stumbled over to the bar and looked up a Ben with a guilty face. "What do I owe you for the damage?" he said solemnly. The bartender looked at him with the same shocked face. "I-It's on the house…" he stuttered. James looked at him to see if he was serious but he looked too shocked to care about the damage. He nodded slowly and turned around to face the rest of the club. Almost everyone in the building shared the same expression as Ben did. 'I think maybe I should get out of here…' he thought cautiously.

Suddenly James felt two pairs of hands grab his arms and hold them behind his back. He looked behind him to see two bouncers almost the size of the man he just knocked out forcing him towards the door. Any resisting action James attempted was easily stifled by the two strong men. When he was finally carried out the door, everyone in the club slowly returned to what they were doing. The dancers went back to dancing, the drunks went back to drinking, and the music stated to play again.

Outside, the two bouncers roughly tossed James out the door not showing any care at all for him. "Stay out…!" one yelled as he landed a few feet from the curb in a small rain puddle. James got up quickly trying not to get his pants wet. He rubbed his arms slightly, feeling a bit sore from the fight just moments ago. 'You don't have to tell me twice. Damn… what a night' he thought looking up at the club. Turning back to the parking lot he searched for his motorcycle in the dimly lit area. 'Now where is my… '

"…there it is." He answered out load to himself.

In the middle of the lot he could see his bike, or what was left of it. The front headlight was smashed, both tires had been slashed, and the paint looked like it was dragged behind a truck for miles. James walked over his bike to see even more damage that wasn't noticeable from a distance. The motor had been disassembled recklessly, the seat cover was gone and both mirrors were gone. 'damn he really did beat it to shit…' James stood there for a moment inspecting the damage with a frown. He picked up what was left of his license plate and held it in front of him. His frown soon turned to smirk, then a smile as he thought about what happen inside the club. 'At least that Jerry guy looks worse than my bike…' he thought. Soon his smile grew brighter and he began to laugh. His laugh grew louder and louder until he was laughing hysterically.

"HA! That RIGHT! You ugly son of a bitch!" he yelled throwing the license plate at the club. He watched as it flew across the parking lot but fell short of the building. 'This will be the last time I go to a strip club…' he thought to himself, still laughing.

But slowly his laughing stopped and his smile disappeared when a suspicious looking blue BMW pulled into the parking lot of the club. The cars lights nearly blinded him as is it pulled up closer. It came to a stop with the driver's side door closest to him. James watched as the tinted window rolled down slowly revealing the driver.

"Lieutenant James Mitchell?"

"Yes?" James replied to the unknown voice not know what to expect.

"Your crew chief told me you might be here. Get in, you're being reassigned."

James hesitated for a moment but quickly walked around the car and got into the passenger's side door. Inside the car James buckled his seat belt and looked at the driver next to him. The driver was a man, maybe in his early 40's, dressed in his uniform. James also saw the man was a colonel as well and took note of it to show respect next time speaking. The Colonel drove out of the parking lot in silence. The whole car ride stayed this way until James finally spoke up.

"Sir? Do you mind telling me why I'm being reassigned? I'm on standby right now."

The Colonel promptly replied "Not anymore son, Pentagon has plans for you, BIG plans. I can't tell you much but I'll start with the introduction. My name is Colonel Sheppard, your commanding officer from now on."

"What unit am I being reassigned to sir?"

A smirk surfaced from the Colonels rocky looking face. "I'll explain that soon enough, but now I have a question for you. Your sortie you flew today, how many kills did you score?"

"Three…sir." James looked at him funny knowing that the Colonel knew something he didn't.

"And of these three enemy planes shot down did one stand out of the ordinary?"

"No I don't think-"James thought back to the engagement he had earlier today. The Russian SU-47 with the strange markings. "Wait. Yes. Yes sir. How did…?"

"I know?" he finished. "Well it turns out that the pilot was one of Russia's best aces… The Russian's loved this guy like he was a Soviet celebrity or something. He's all over their news and propaganda." The Colonel stopped and let out a light chuckle. "…and you shot him down."

James continued his dumbstruck stare not knowing what to say. The Colonel looked at him with a sly smirk "I've read your file. Not the best and brightest of the Air Force. Joined in right from the streets with no previous flight experience what so ever, barely made it out of college with a batchers'. No parents, siblings, or family for that matter. Top of class in UPT, Nominated for section leader… five times. All stripped do to disciplinary actions... but you were handpicked from the pukes at the pentagon so you must be something."

The car turned off the road and into a small airfield, mostly likely used for private planes. The car stopped next to a Government owned Gulf Stream 5000 private plane that was being patrolled by two Air force security police. The Colonel opened the door and got out leaving James still in the car. After a moment of waiting James decided he would do the same and quickly got out of the car as well. When he got out James saw Shepherd opening the trunk of the car. He pulled out what looked like a large military duffle bag and an olive green flight bag. "I took the liberty of packing all your belongings and bringing them here." The young pilot gave him a very irritated look knowing all of his things were violated by another person. "I'm sorry but we were short on time," the Colonel replied know full well he was not happy.

James walked over and opened his flight bag check to see if everything was there. After a quick look he found that everything was accounted for but one thing. He unzipped a small pocket on the inside of the bag and removed a photo from within, stuffing it in his jacket pocket. "Don't worry about it sir." James asked looking up at the colonel.

"Were in a hurry, grab your things and let's go."

Without question he slung the flight bag over his shoulder and grabbed the duffle bag from the back of the car. James followed the Colonel up the steps of the plane and watched the door close behind him. Two sharp looking pilots were flipping switches in the cockpit not even paying attention to the two passengers as they shuffled through the cabin. The inside of the plane looked very professional with its tan colored interior. Four large swiveling chairs rested in the front of the plane, two on each side. Behind the chairs was the second section of the plane filled with rows of the tan colored seats. James slowly made his way to the back of the plane to put his bags in the empty seats. The sound of the Gulf Streams two small engines started to surface as he set his bags down in the first row of seats. He turned back around to see the Colonel talking to the two pilots in the front. The sound of the engines reaching their idle power warned James the plane was about to depart. James took a seat in the back pair of swivel chairs looking out the small window next to him. He could see the two security police holding the planes chalks next to the car. One of the soldiers gave the plane a 'thumbs up' and tossed the wooden blocks in the back of the BMW. James suddenly felt the plane lurch forward as they began to taxi towards the runway. James buckled his seat belt around his waist and looked up to see the colonel walking from the cockpit. He took a seat next to James and fastened his seat belt as well looking straight forward when the belt was securely fastened.

James turned his head to look out the window and watched the plane as it lined up on the end of the runway. Its engines slowly grew louder and louder as the plane came to a halt.

"Sir where are we going?" James said looking back over to Colonel Shepherd. The Colonel continued to look forward, "We have to make a few stops, just sit back and relax for now." The plane accelerated down the runway pushing James and Colonel Shepherd back in their seats…

**A/N: Yo! Well to those of you who still care I hoped you enjoyed this. (well over due, very sorry).**

**Its been a long time in fact, almost years haha. But good news is (for me), I'm on my way to becoming a fighter pilot myself! Just 4 years of Naval ROTC and college is all that's in my way of becoming a naval aviator! My work load next semester is very light so now that I'm not worried about getting into college, school work, and girlfriends...I'll have more time for continuing this story! Just need to find the motivation to write... So drop a review in if you can please and I'll try my best to get the next chapter out ASAP!**

**And on a side note... Couldn't help but notice that I started doing these Ace Combat FF in our world like 3 years ago. Then all of the sudden the Ace Combat game series takes place in real world times... Maybe it's just me haha but I think it would be kind of cool to think I had a little something to do with that, but that's highly unlikely haha. **

**As always, R&R! It helps with my motivation to write when I know there are people out there that read what I'm typing.**


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